i stared right into the sun again,
as if soon i will no longer be in need of eyes.
The earth was leaking,
God had spilled ink on its page–
birds in murmuration, like waves for the sky.
Admittedly, my mouth opened with wonder.
The sky was cold and grey, like it was made of concrete,
and still, they danced in it.
i've been having days where i wake up feeling more like matter than a body,
i am seventeen, on the cusp of turning over like a cell,
and i find myself wishing to be the stiller spaces:
where skin is never touched,
where atoms never meet,
where words float like fetuses in my fingertips.
Lately, light is harsher than usual,
and i wish to be it too,
falling through earth like thick, bright hair
(Lately, i am greedy, wishing not just for light's figure, but its warmth.)
i'm wishing to be anything but a self.
For those black birds that blanket the sky like death’s wedding veil,
to swoop down and peck out these eyes that are
desperate as hands searching for
loose pocket change, looking into other eyes
like they’re freshly polished mirrors.
My dog pulls the leash hard, her nose filled with wonder
at the many things pressed and painted into the ground:
dying flowers,
messages of shit and piss other dogs left behind for her,
autumn leaves stretched like nature's confetti,
i pull against her, annoyed at her naivety.
She pulls again, sniffing harder.
No she is saying
Look harder
The world is still dancing